


Self-Loathing

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Catharsis, Drinking, Frustration, Guilt, M/M, Organized Crime, Slash, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya has a rare attack of conscience. Shizuo doesn’t help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not like he was never aware of the things that went on. The other things, the dark side of the already black underbelly; trafficking, torture, other nameless acts at the hands of those he worked with. Just because he would have nothing to do with it did not make him ignorant, or stupid.

“You think you’re too good for this,” one of them had sneered at him, when he had refused to be involved in such an operation for a hefty cut. He gets a lot of these taunts. A lot of these offers. He doesn't know when it started to sicken him. Why this offer in particular riles him so.

They're laughing at him.

He leaves without saying goodbye.

He feels it building inside him as he stalks away, and Masaomi, oblivious, has to jog to keep up, weaving after him through the crowds.

“What’s up with you?” He says, and he actually laughs. “Why not? It was a good offer.”

Izaya stops so suddenly, Masaomi nearly smacks into him."Because it's fucking appalling, Masaomi," he snarls. He throws the phone, the one he's been keeping for those bastards, and it smashes against a shop wall. A few people turn to look, as he is yelling now, he is actually losing his composure.

“You should hate this, and you should hate yourself for not seeing it. We are horrible people!”

Masaomi takes a step back. He is staring. Everyone is staring.

Izaya forces himself to breathe. He knows the people staring won't be just strangers.

He leaves the phone in bits on the ground, and Masaomi doesn't follow.

* * *

Safe in his apartment, alone, he almost laughs. Where on Earth had _that_ come from?

He is such a hypocrite, such a terrible human being, how can he not laugh?

But he doesn't laugh. He has a drink instead. Not a typical indulgence, but he can’t stop shaking.

He takes the sake over to the window and sits with his knees up, forehead on the glass.

The sake helps.

He’s well into his second glass when there's a knock on the door. A series of thuds would be a more apt description. He knows what this means.

It is the protozoan, come for another round of catharsis after a presumably bad day. Izaya should point out to him that catharsis has been scientifically proven to not work, and that it is not the healthiest of habits.

“I know you’re in there, flea,” the brute bellows. “I can see your light.”

Izaya doesn’t move. He's not in the mood. He eyes what’s left of his sake, drinks another third of it.

“It’s open,” he calls eventually, when it becomes obvious Shizuo isn't going to go away.

He still doesn’t get up when Shizuo lets himself in. He folds his arms around his knees, the glass held awkwardly in one hand.

Shizuo stops when he sees it and frowns. He keeps his distance, as if he’s too hypocritical to start a fight with someone who’s inebriated. He’d never admit it, but Izaya knows he’s itching for him to get up and goad him, to get out his knives and make the trip worth his while.

But Izaya doesn’t provoke him. He wonders, dully, if Shizuo can sense something’s up. He’s no longer shaking, the sake took care of that, but he stays curled in his chair, and Shizuo is clearly wondering why.

“Are you even listening to me?” he growls now. He had been ranting for the last five minutes about the last thing Izaya did to him, but it is subdued even for him; he just wants an excuse.

“I’m listening, Shizu-chan.” Izaya pinches the bridge of his nose. No-one would ever believe the amount of listening he did in his line of work. Being considered so corrupt, so evil, himself, people felt safe telling him everything, and most of it was not pleasant. _  
_

“I saw your little temper tantrum.”

Izaya drops his hands to look at him. Just his luck. But Shizuo has no right to comment on anyone’s temper tantrums.

He takes a final sip of sake and sets his glass down.

"I'm tired, Shizu-chan."

But he gets up anyway to show willing.

Shizuo's nonplussed.

“You’ve fucked up my day plenty of times when I’ve been tired.”

“I don’t recall specifically coming to your house late at night to do so.”

His voice has started to climb again. He has to stop to breathe.

Shizuo is staring at him.

Izaya shrugs, approaches him normally.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Shizuo kisses him like he wants to it to last, like he doesn't want it to go further, although Izaya can feel the urgency in his arms; he's holding on hard enough to hurt. He pulls back before Izaya expects him to.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might want more than this?”

Izaya stares, thinking for a moment that he must have misheard him, that the sake’s getting to him.

“Huh?”

Shizuo holds him at arm’s length, those stupid glasses masking his eyes.

“This.” Shizuo squeezes him for emphasis.

Izaya blinks at him. He rests his hands on Shizuo's shoulders.

“If that’s how you feel, you’re perfectly free to pursue something more worthy of your time. No-one’s forcing you to come here.”

Shizuo growls again, and Izaya thinks he will push him then, maybe hard enough to go back into the glass, but he only grips harder.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might want to actually sleep here now and then? That it could fucking go somewhere?” He looks away, as if hearing how ridiculous it sounds, but he doesn't let go. He shakes his head. "If we're going to keep doing this, I don't want there to be anyone else."

Izaya stares at him. This has been, without doubt, the strangest night of his life.

“There isn’t anyone else,” Izaya hears himself saying. “At least, on my side of things.”

Shizuo just looks at him.

"What's up with you tonight?"

It's not accusatory, just curious.

Izaya shifts under his hands, avoiding his eyes. He ignores the question.

“So that’s an ultimatum, is it? All or nothing?”

Shizuo shrugs. Loosens his hold. “It’s not like you have to decide right now.” He pulls Izaya in again, but Izaya puts his hands out to stop him.

“Go away, would you, Shizu-chan?” He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, at the worst time, and he can’t bring himself to look Shizuo in the eyes as he says it, but he's too freaked out. “I’m tired.”

He steps out of his arms. Shizuo lets him, and Izaya feels the loss of warmth as he does.

“Whatever.”

Izaya sinks back into the chair as he retreats, pulls up his knees again.

“Shizuo,” he blurts, when the other man’s almost at the door. It comes out almost panicked.

Shizuo pauses, turns back to look at him curled up, hanging on to his knees.

For a moment, he doesn’t want to be alone, doesn’t want Shizuo to go.

Then it passes, and he knows he's in no state to let Shizuo near him. He shakes his head.

“I’ll call you."

Shizuo looks at him strangely. He looks almost as if he’s about to say something. Then he shakes his head and leaves him.


	2. Chapter 2

Izaya puts his head back on the glass when Shizuo's gone. What on Earth had _that_ been about?

He doesn't want to think about it. He has too much to think about as it is.

Masaomi calls him. Izaya's not in the mood. He ignores the text that follows too.

A helicopter flies overhead; his eyes follow without interest.

His eyes are lidded, the wine dulling him, until he jumps when what sounds like shots are fired. The noise goes through him like an electric shock.

Men are shouting, bawling beneath him, a car alarm blaring, more shots fired. He snatches up his phone and dials without looking.

"What was that? Where are you?"

"I don't know, I just got outside. People are fucking running."

"Come back in. Come back up."

"Yeah, yeah, I am." He sounds vaguely annoyed. This sort of thing has become so common, it's more of a nuisance than an actual threat. Izaya hears the ping of the elevator in the background. "You see anything from up there?"

"No, it's too dark. Probably just another gang war."

"Probably. Not some shit you started?"

"It's not, for once. I try to keep business away from my home life. Hurry up."

"I can't control the fucking elevator, Izaya," he snaps, and hangs up.

He lets himself back in the apartment moments later.

Izaya ignores him, busy staring at a text from Masaomi. He feels like he's waking up after a long, long time, but he only left Masaomi an hour ago, and Shizuo minutes ago.

_Please call me._

"Fucking gang wars," Shizuo complains. He drops on to Izaya's couch and turns on the news. He cocks his head, indifferent, to Izaya's side of the conversation.

"You've what? _Masaomi_. All right. Calm down. Do I have to come and get you? Yes, go to your parents, go right now. It doesn't matter. They won't care, Masaomi, believe me. Do you want me to - OK. Good. Call me when you do."

He throws the phone aside in disgust.

"Some people are so stupid, it makes me want to chew my own hands off."

Shizuo spares him a glance.

"Thought you had nothing to do with it?"

 

Izaya ignores him, looks at the forgotten sake with vague disgust. He already feels hungover, sickly and slow. His heart is hammering.

He goes to kneel on the couch, rests his head on Shizuo's shoulder.

Shizuo stiffens, like he doesn't know what he's meant to do with this.

The news drones around them. The sirens get louder, closer.

 

He keeps his eyes closed as the sirens stop somewhere below them, and the yelling peters out.

Another text comes from Masaomi.

_In car with Dad.  
_

_Good_ , he replies. _Moron_ , he almost adds, but it'd be calling the kettle black.

He puts his head back on Shizuo's shoulder, watches the news with one eye, but it's just repeating itself.

"Looks like it is just another gang war," Shizuo comments.

"Yeah." He doesn't move. He struggles to come back to himself. "I should have left you out there."

"Surprised you didn't," he retorts.

"Oh, you know me. Full of surprises."

Shizuo sighs, shifts just slightly so he's leaning back, more comfortable.

"It's probably fine to go back out now," he remarks.

Izaya takes no notice.

"What's up with _you_ tonight, protozoan?" He feels Shizuo stiffen again. "What made you say what you did?"

"I…I don't know. I just don't like doing this. But, forget it. Forget I said anything."

Now it is Izaya who stiffens.

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter, just forget it."

He snorts.

"I barely cuddle on you and you change your mind."

"It's not that," he barks. His whole body tenses with it, but Izaya doesn't move off him, and Shizuo doesn't push him away.

"Then stay the night," Izaya hears himself saying. "You said you wanted to sleep here."

"That was just an example. It doesn't have to be right now."

"All right. I'm just saying."

It should be an olive branch, but when they're not fucking like crazed rabbits, they still don't know how to talk to each other. Izaya can feel Shizuo's still annoyed.

He's flipping through the channels now, not stopping long enough for any of them.

"What's up with you?" he growls again. "Tonight," he adds, in case Izaya thinks he's commenting on his mental state in general. Izaya almost laughs at the hypocrisy.

"I don't know," he mutters. He shifts and stretches his legs out, pressing his sore eyes into Shizuo's shoulder.

Shizuo wisely doesn't pursue it.

He finds some stupid series to watch, and Izaya lets it wash over him with his eyes closed.

Shizuo doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't go home, either.


End file.
